Emissary of Darkness
by WhiteMask22
Summary: Mel is just your average wallflower, supposedly. However, with her father who died under mysterious circumstances, and the dreams of darkness that plague her nights she is anything but ordinary. Before long these dreams send her into the midst of the chaos and she must help the spirit of the puzzle stop the wave of evil using the knowledge her father dug up from the past. (Yami/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, his is the first thing I've posted on fanfic. This is kinda the introductory chapter so you may find it a little slow paced, but hopefully the next chapter will be more intriguing. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or anything to do with it... Except some trading cards.**

"Mel, please sit up and pay attention."

Well those were the words I heard at least a million times a day. Usually without the please. That's all the attention I ever got in school. Yup, there nothing quite like being extra ordinary. Not extraordinary but ordinary, the kind of ordinary where people don't even see you, unless you actually walk up to them. The kind of ordinary where nobody notices you unless someone of importance spills their lunch on you in the cafeteria. I didn't even get bullied, I was always the kind of girl that was just there, and known as, 'some kid.'

I wasn't talented at anything, except my knack for language, which wasn't very helpful in life. It's not like I was bad at anything, just not overly good at anything. Just a wallflower.

My day was just like any other. Boring. Currently I was sitting in class, or rather slumped in class, entertaining myself by blowing a strand of hair that insisted on hanging in front of my face, and ignoring the teachers most recent command.

I glanced over at the window, and sighed. It was too nice out to be sitting in a boring old school, but I was stuck here, just like everyone else. Which sucked. I began to daydream, drowning out what the teacher was saying, and before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep.

A sharp crack startled me back to the waking world. "Melanie Quinn! Do you think the back of your eyelids are more interesting then my lesson?" The teacher loomed down on me, scowling fiercely.

I blushed, and I got that nervous tingling you get in your stomach which only ever comes when anticipation occurs. I was anticipating a good punishment. I tried to hide my embarrassment. "No, sir, not at all."

"Then I suggest you start to prove it. Detention after school."

A few snickers followed the teachers statement. I blushed, slumped lower in my seat, and twisted a strand of my black hair around my finger. A habit that I did when I was upset about something, in this case, detention. For a few weeks now, I'd been having nightmares about my father who had died years ago. I thought I'd gotten over his death. Consciously, I was, but subconsciously, well, apparently not. In my dream, my father was always trying to tell me something, something important, but he was speaking in a language I didn't understand. Then he'd disappear into a swirl of shadows. I'd shout and call for him, but could never find him. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, and would only sleep fitfully for the rest of the night. I was exhausted, and could only hope the dream would soon go away.

Another thing that upset me was that I'd had plans to finish a history assignment with my partner after school today. Now I was gonna have to cancel on her, making me feel worse.

For the rest of class I looked straight a head and tried to pay attention. In what seemed like forever the lunch bell finally rang, signalling the end of class. I couldn't have been more grateful. Everyone stood up in a rush, slamming their binders shut in the process.

I too, hurriedly did the same, and headed for the door with everyone else. On my way out somebody bumped into me, and my books went flying all over the place. I took a second, looked at the roof and sighed, before bending down to pick up what I'd dropped.

"Here you go."

I looked up, startled. A short, spiky haired, boy, was standing in front of me, holding out some of my papers that had escaped me. I knew who it was. Yugi Moto had been in my class for several years now. He wasn't popular, but wasn't unpopular either. He was the in between kind, had several friends, and was generally well liked throughout the school. Despite his wild hair, and the punk leather look he wore, he still looked rather innocent. Maybe he wore the leather to show there was more to him then met the eye.

"Umm... Thanks." I said, and took the papers he was holding out to me. I stood up.

"Hey, sorry you got detention." He looked genuinely sorry when he said it.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. I wasn't good at talking to people, which is why I stayed to myself. If my hands hadn't been full, I would probably be twisting hair around my finger like crazy by now.

"Yeah, oh well." I said lamely. I wish I could have said something more inventive, or even appreciative like...well I didn't really know.

"Anyway, see you." And with that Yugi turned and headed out the door. I stood there for a moment, and headed out the door as well, with the last few stragglers.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and in what seemed like a millennia I was on my way home. The bright sunshine cast its glow on the city of Domino. The traffic whizzed by, and the light breeze was enough to take the edge off the heat. Slowly I trudged my way home. It was about five-o-clock, and I was grumbling under my breath about having to do detention. Nearly two hours of mopping floors, had left me tired, and in a fairly negative mood. I still felt bad about cancelling on my history partner leaving her to finish the project on her own. The only good thing that had happened was that I didn't have a lot of homework to flounder through for the rest of the evening.

I turned on to my street, still shuffling along, and saw an unusual car parked in my driveway. Not that it was a surprise. Seeing fancy sports cars in front of my large mansion was not all that uncommon. My mother worked for a popular magazine as a writer/reporter and was quite good at a her job. There were always models, photographers, actors, coworkers, and journalists at the house. More often then not, I avoided them. I wasn't like them. They always were wearing designer labels, prancing about in shoes that were probably more expensive then most people paid for shoes in 10 years, carrying purses worth more then reason, and driving cars that were the best money could buy. Then there was me, the wallflower. Cotton t-shirts for $15, and plastic jewellery from the dollar store. And despite being driving age, no car at all.

I admired the car as I passed it. It was a sleek black Porsche GT2. Real leather covered the seats and it had a perfect paint job, not a scratch on it. It was a subtle combination. For someone with an untrained eye it was a fancy car, but pretty un-noticeable with such a plain colour, hiding its true power. It was the fastest road going 911 GT2 ever released to the public, and able to hit a speed of 97km/h in 3.6 seconds, and has a top speed of 320km/h. It truly was a force to be reckoned with. I couldn't help but admire it. I stood back a bit, it case I drooled on it, breathed on it, or touched it.

The door to my house opened, and my moms laughter caught my attention. I turned my head from the car to see her step out of the house with a man I'd never seen before. He was about six feet, had a athletic build, long sandy brown hair hung down to his shoulders, and very light blue eyes. He wore a neatly trimmed, but greying van dyke beard. He had completed his look with a pair of jeans, and a grey jacket over a a white collared shirt with the top few buttons left open.

He noticed me before my mother. He looked confused, probably wondering what a very unstylish teenager was doing standing next to his car, and in front of such a upper class house.

My mother noticed the mans attention was no longer on her, and she looked my way as well. For some reason I felt uncomfortable, as though I was intruding on something. I shifted from foot to foot. "Umm hey mom." I shouldered my bag, and walked up to the front step.

"Mel! Welcome home! Well, not in the sense that you've been gone long, well longer then usual, but still not long in the sense do a few days..." She seemed flustered and kept glancing at the man standing on the step with her. "...just that you were longer then it usually takes..."

"Mom." I said, hiding how embarrassed I was at her, "I had detention after school, that's all. Sorry."

"Mel! What happened? This is the third incident time in the last two weeks!" I winced at the sound of her yelling. It was true. I was so tired in the mornings, I was late for school one day, and had missed a exam that was worth twenty five percent of my grade. It required a doctors note for an allowance to miss the test, of which I hadn't had. Mom had had to beg and plead for a chance for me to write it. Then a few days later, I hadn't done an assignment because I had come home and fallen asleep, and now there was this.

"Melanie Anne Quinn, what has gotten into you? First missing that test, and then the assignment, and now getting detention!"

I stood there taking the hits. They were all true. I shuffled my shoes, and looked at the spot above my mom's shoulder.

Then a polite, "Excuse me?" Interrupted my mother's tirade. It appeared she had forgotten about her guest. "Perhaps, Caroline, I should be leaving. It seems" he inserted a little cough and continued, "Your daughter and you..." He trailed off.

"Oh, yes, sorry. It was nice seeing you John."

John? Caroline? Why were they on a first name basis? Who was John anyway? I looked at him curiously as he went over to his Porsche. He got in and started the car. I couldn't help noticing that it made hardly any noise, the engine only making a low hum, before it backed out of the driveway, any raced away.

There was a moment of silence before my mother let out a long sigh. I looked at her. My mother was a slim, blond woman with deep brown eyes, and skin smooth as silk. She would have looked like a goddess in a garbage bag with water bottles strapped to her feet. She was also my best friend. She took a seat on the hanging love seat by the door. I sat down next to her, throwing my bag down next to me.

"What was it this time?" Her voice was gentle but stern. At least she wasn't really mad at me. Other wise shes be yelling again.

Despite the feeling that my stomach was going to jump out of my mouth with nervousness, I looked her straight in the eye. "I fell asleep in class."

"Are you alright? It's obvious your not sleeping well anymore. You look so tired all the time, and these incidents at school seem to becoming more frequent as a result." She glanced at me and quickly away again. There was something else.

"What? If there's something else you may as well spit it out" I knew mom to well. She was a master of deception when it come to work, but to me, she was an open book.

She let out a nervous giggle. "You know me to well. I'm going to have to be more careful around you."

I quirked an eyebrow at her, letting her know she wasn't going to be let off that easy.

"Alright, alright! I know you're not exactly popular at school..." I snorted, but let her continue, "so I just don't want you making wrong choices, and hanging out with the wrong crowd to make friends, because its not worth it."

Laughter filled me. This was what my mom thought I was sleeping badly for? That I was with the wrong crowd and staying out late at night? I though I'd make it clear how much I disapproved of such things, and had chosen to pick this...this reason for my insomnia.

"Mom, really? You think I'm hanging out with the wrong crowd? After all the times I've told you people like that will probably go no where in life. Jeez, those kids have been higher then the Kaiba Corp building." I shook my head, the rogue strand of hair fell back in front of my face.

My mother looked at me hard, and I met her gaze. She knew when I was telling a lie or not, she had her ways. Seeming satisfied that I was telling the truth, she said, "I just am worried is all. This never used to happen, maybe I should take you to a doctor so you can get sleeping pills or something."

"No!" I said quickly.

Mom looked at me curiously.

"I mean, I don't think that's the problem. It's probably just a thing. Give it a bit and it'll probably go away." Part of me hoped it was the truth, and the dream would go away. Another part of me told me it was something important, and not to tell my mother the truth. I wasn't telling a lie exactly, but I certainly wasn't telling the truth.

Again my mother considered me. "Okay, but you have two weeks for it to 'go away' then you have to see a doctor." She was using her mom voice on me. There was no way to argue with her over this. So I agreed.

Then on to brighter subjects she said, "So how was school?"

I grinned. This was why I loved my mom. She cared and could be a mom when she had to, even though I didn't necessarily like it, or she could be the friendly fun mom.

"Oh the usual. You know, dysfunctional hormonal teenagers trying to pretend they are cool by doing something totally childish."

"Including yourself then I imagine?" Mom questioned.

"Me do something that stands out? Seriously?" I said it humorously, but it was also the truth.

"Well if you did something with your hair, and wore a little eye liner to bring out the colour of you eyes, I'm sure you could make quite the impression."

We talked about this a lot. Mom was always trying to get me to step out a bit, do something different, but the truth was that I was afraid. I was afraid of what others would think of me, and that standing out would give them more reason to judge me.

I'd never told my mother any of this, though she knew it. It was the silent communication between us. It was something never openly spoke of.

I made my usual response or excuse rather to her suggestion. "What, bow to the standards of society. Nah."

She sighed, shook her head and was about to say something else, when her cell rang. She took it out of her pocket and looked at it. "It's Eddie." Eddie was her boss, and every time he called my mom was caught up in details about the magazine for hours sometimes. "I bought chocolate mint ice cream, it's in the freezer if you want some, okay?"

I nodded.

My mom answered the phone. "Hey, Eddie..." She got up and wandered back into the house.

I stood up, and turned to grab my book bag, and I saw it. It must've been the way I turned for me to notice it, because otherwise it would have been quite hard to see. An envelope was wedged between the two cushions of the love seat. I pulled it out. The paper was slightly crumpled, but otherwise untouched. The name on the front was, Peter Quinn.

My father.

**I have a idea for the next part, but suggestions will be considered. As with any author, constructive criticism would be appreciated. **

**Have a super special awesome day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took so long to update. I ended up with a head cold that wiped the floor with me. Today is the first day I've had, where my head is more brain then congestion. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own YuGiOh, to my great disappointment.**

I stared at the name on the letter. Simple black ink on white paper. So ordinary. I touched the letter as if it might catch fire in my hands. The seal had already been broken. My fingers itched to open it, and see what was inside, however I did not. Something told me I should wait until I was alone, and no one would interrupt.

I tucked it into my bag and glanced at it. Curiosity was gnawing at me like a dog gnaws at a bone. I ignored my desire, and opened the front door and went into the house.

A hollow feeling washed over me as I stepped inside. This always happened whenever I came in through the door. A large foyer lay in front of me. This was my least favourite part of the house. Despite the many decorations, and furnishings, it was huge and empty. I felt like a total outsider standing there in my own house. It was as if I had stepped into a movie without my knowing it.

My moms voice was coming from her office. I couldn't hear what she was saying. Not that I cared. No doubt she was talking about what the models should wear for the upcoming photo shoot.

"Meow."

A large orange cat came prowling around the corner. Sleek muscles rippled beneath his fur, and intelligent eyes peered at me, as if trying to tell me something. Which, no doubt it was. That something being along the lines of, "Feed me."

I smiled at the cat. "What's up One Ton?" My response was another meow. One Ton turned and headed toward the kitchen, where his food dish was. One Ton was the epitome of self satisfied. He liked to think he was king of the world, and had an ego the size of the house he lived in. Part of that was my fault. I pampered him too much.

As I followed the cat into the kitchen I remembered when I had gotten him. It had been on my birthday nearly five years ago, as a gift from my father. Even then I had been a loner, so Dad had given me a cat to have has a friend. When I realized how much the cat ate, I decided to name him One Ton, much to the dismay of my mother. She tried to get me to call him something more normal, like Marmalade. However it was too late and One Ton stuck.

The kitchen was lit up with the rays of the setting sun, their warmth seeped through the glass. One ton jumped up on the window and let out another meow. I dumped my bag with the letter in it, on the centre island. My thoughts were in a tumult. The letter had stirred up many questions that I hoped would be answered when I read it. However I doubted that would happen. This time I had a feeling that there would simply be more questions. At that thought, doubt entered my mind.

Maybe there were things in that letter that I didn't need to know. Perhaps I should just get rid of the letter and forget all about it. But then I would always be wondering. I could just give the letter to my mom, and be done with it. I rebelled against that thought. For some reason, I didn't want mom to know about the letter.

It was odd. I always shared everything with my mom. Not that there was much to share in my life. It was so boring, so ordinary.

I shook the thoughts from my head. I was probably just over thinking this. The letter was probably nothing. Just a letter from a friend or something. Something totally unimportant.

I opened the freezer and took out the ice cream. Usually I wouldn't eat this late in the day but since it was a Thursday, and mom was on the phone, we would probably end up eating a microwaveable dinner later on. Mom and I usually made dinner together, but sometimes we were lazy, and liked to have something simple rather then cooking.

I sat down on one of the bar stools around the island, and shoved my bag over. One Ton jumped up and stuck his nose in my dish, and I gave him a little shove. Rather then being irritated by me, he rubbed his head against my hand. Absently I began to stroke him.

I watched the sun setting outside the window. The sky was magnificent. The clouds streaked across the sky, the setting sun giving it a golden hue. It looked as if the heavens had streaked war paint across its face, preparing for some kind of great battle. It was the sky that inspired poets, artists, and writers. Looking out on it, I felt and surge of inspiration myself. I felt like I could do anything, but the problem was I didn't know what.

I let lose a sigh, and got up. As I put my dishes away, I heard my mom walk in.

"That was short." I commented.

"Yeah." She sighed and pulled her fingers through her hair. "Listen sweetie, I've got to go into the office. Adele is sick, and won't be able to do the article for tomorrow on time, so I've got to go in and take over."

"Oh. Okay. That's fine, I got stuff to do anyway." I said. Adele was a woman who worked with mom. She was a good person and an excellent writer. Her only problem was she was a procrastinator, and this wasn't the first time this had happened.

"See you honey." Mom said as she grabbed the keys off the wall. I watcher her walk out, her long dark hair ponytail swinging behind her.

Snagging my bag, I I headed upstairs to my room. I heard my mom's car pull out of the driveway, and speed down the road. The house seemed even more silent than it did before.

When I opened the door to my room, I knew something was wrong. My room was the smallest room in the house, but was still pretty large. A queen sized bed was tucked in the corner, an oak wardrobe stood against the wall, and a desk was in front of the window, overlooking the road. Posters of far off places covered the walls. I shut the door behind me, and looked around.

My room was my sanctuary. I never let anyone in, even my mother. So why was the books on my shelf a little more cluttered? Why did the blanket on my bed look a little to smooth? Why was my closet door all the way closed when I had left it all the way open? Small differences were all over the place. I knew my room my room to well, and I saw every alteration.

I was sure it wasn't my mother, because why would she have remade my bed, or gone through my books? No, someone else had been in my room. Then I thought about John. But I could be wrong. Mom usually got a lot of visitors, so it could have been someone else, or someone who had come from outside and snuck in without notice. I felt violated in a way. I no longer felt safe in my own room. Someone had been looking for something, that much was obvious. The question was, what had they been looking for?

Unwilling to stay in my room for the time being, I turned, opened the door, and left. Outside my door,I looked around. The sun had just gone down beyond the horizon leaving the house dark, and eerily quiet. I hated it when the house was like this. It was moments like this when I realized how alone I was. How empty my life felt, and most of all made me miss my father.

I sat on the edge of the stairs, deciding it was as good as anywhere to read dad's letter. Slowly I withdrew it from my bag and held it in my hands for a moment. I looked at the elegant writing on the envelope. I so badly wanted to open it, and yet I didn't at the same time.

'Like ripping off a band aide.' I thought. 'Get it over with.' Before I could rethink myself, I tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter, and unfolded it. 'Its probably nothing,' I thought to myself. 'Just some letter that was accidentally left out and wedged between the cushions on the love-seat. Just some letter.' I opened my eyes. I hadn't realized I had closed them in the first place.

_Peter, _

_We have at last found the stone, that you have been so interested in. An eye of some kind is marked on it, and no one seems to be able to identify it. Shall I send word for Mr. Hassan? He seems to have a great deal of knowledge about Ancient Egypt, so perhaps he can decipher this riddle._

_There are indeed seven slots, like you predicted, in which artifacts are played like some kind of puzzle. However, after a thorough inspection that was conducted by myself, I found to my greatest surprise, an eighth slot, hidden with in the stone. This one however was not empty, as we're the rest. I have sent you the item I found, also marked with the strange eye._

_I sent you this artifact immediately, so you may have already received it, to investigate yourself, and for security reasons, which brings me on to another subject, to which you are partially aware._

_We both knew that this expedition would unearth many secrets, and secrets come with a price. With Kul Elna's past, I'm not surprised an apparent outside party seems intent on getting inside. Several more deaths have occurred, and earlier I returned to find my tent and all my gear ravaged. It was quite obvious as to what he was looking for._

_My dear friend, I implore you to end this investigation. I know when we both began this escapade, we were convinced we would let nothing stand in our way, and we invested greatly in this project. Now I realize, it might not be worth it, as the consequences of our actions are at hand. They might be bigger then either of us expected. _

_Your dear friend, and partner, Marcus Winters._

_This being the second day of Epagomenal of 2007_

I had been right. I had more questions than answers. In fact I pretty much only had one answer. This letter was definitely more then just nothing. It was a bigger something then I wanted to admit to myself.

There were so many questions I had about the letter. Who was Mr. Hassan? Who was Marcus Winters? If he was my father's best friend, why had I never heard of him? What was the stone that had been mentioned? What had my father been doing with this project? Who was the person supposedly killing people, looking for the mysterious artifact? Why was he or she after it? And most importantly, what _was_ the object Marcus Winters had sent to my father and where was it?

Energy thrummed through my veins. I felt the need to do something to calm my mind and to think. I carefully folded the letter back up and tucked it back in its envelope.

My father and I had been close. Mom often said that I was the exact copy of dad, in likes and interests. We both liked culture and language, enjoyed travelling, the only thing different, was that dad loved the adventure, and taking risks. I was wary, and liked to stick to safety and familiarity. He was always trying to get me to do something crazy and daring with him. It always used to irritate me, but then he was gone, and now if I could have one wish, it would be to have him back, so I could do those crazy and daring things with him, even if it meant being afraid.

I glanced at my watch. 6:02. I knew it was getting late, and I still had homework to do. How could I do homework when I'd just read such a cryptic letter? On the other hand it would give me something to do, and stop my mind from doing circles.

Still afraid to go into my bedroom, I stuffed the letter into my bag for the second time and headed back downstairs. I switched on the light in the dining room, and chucked my stuff on the table. For the next hour I slogged my way through my algebra, chemistry, and history homework.

Finally finished for the evening, I decide it was time to have something to eat. In the kitchen I dug out a box of sausage rolls, put them on a tray and threw them into the oven. I leaned against the counter, bored while I was waiting. The TV we had in the kitchen was next to me, so I turned it on. The news was on, and I watched the weather man predict that the next few days were expected to be sunny and hot.

The oven binged, signalling the sausage rolls were ready. While I was turned around I heard the reporter begin breaking news.

_"Today, much to everyone's delight, the creator and champion on the popular game Duel Monsters, Maximillion Pegasus has announced that he will be hosting a national tournament that is being called Duellist Kingdom, to bring together some of the worlds best players."_

I sat down and watched the reporter speak, my sausage rolls forgotten in front of me. This wasn't that much of a surprise. Pegasus was getting older and he probably had enough money to last him three very expensive lifetimes. No one would have expected such a move for him. He enjoyed a lavish life and rarely had much to do with the public anymore, though his name was known worldwide.

_"The reward, if you win is great. Invitations have been sent out to players worldwide. Each of them has received two cards. These serve as entry cards to the tournament, as well as a duel glove, and two star chips. The two cards are your choice of a reward. The first is called kings treasure." The reported held up a card similar to a duel monsters card, with what appeared to be a treasure trove printed upon it. "This card represents a reward of $10 million." Next the reported held up another likeness to a duel monsters card, except this one was completely blank. "This represents a request, that Pegasus himself will grant if it is within his power." _

_Now that was a daring move. Pegasus was betting everything in this tournament. If he lost, he could lose his company and his fortune. That would be a lot to lose._

"Last but not least, the winner can duel Pegasus himself, in a match not only for a prize, but the title for King of Games. So before I go onto the 8:00 news, I would like to say, good luck to the duellists at the tournament, and remember, the world is watching!"

"Mr. Hassan, sir, the tournament has just been announced."

"Yes, I know." I said quite calmly. "Honestly, I wonder why I keep you employed? You always seem to be telling me things I'm already aware of, Montagne."

"Sir?"

"You may, however keep your job for now. You are dismissed." I waved my hand at him from around the edge of my chair. I was back on to the man, observing the city of Domino, from fifteen stories up.

"Is there nothing else I can to for you then, sir?"

I sighed irritated, and swung my chair around to face the man before me. I put a bit of anger into my look. "Not unless you can tell me the secrets of Peter Quinn, where he hid the eighth millennium item, or anything relevant to the subject." There was a moment of silence. "Well, can you?" I asked impatiently.

"No sir."

"Then go!" The man hurried out of the office, trying to hide his unease. He failed. Why did I continue to surround myself with incompetent fools? I huffed, and swung around to look out the window again.

Despite my visit to Caroline Quinn's, house, I had found nothing that I had hoped to find. I'd searched the house, while the woman had been on the phone with some acquaintance. I'd searched everywhere, finding nothing, even in the girls room. I'd been rushed, however, but I was still sure I had missed nothing.

Frustrated just thinking about it, I swung around in my swivel chair, and shoved everything off the desk.

"Damn you, Peter Quinn. You can't keep your secrets forever." I said aloud. I knew he couldn't hear me. For one, I was in the room alone, and two, Peter Quinn had died in the dessert in Egypt, at my own word, five years ago.

**Mwa hahaha, I am so proud of myself. I never thought this would turn out mysterious, but it did and I like it. I hope you do to. **

**Good day, and may no one ever steal your leather pants!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: YuGiOh is still owned by a Japanese Guy, and 4 Kids, and I am not four kids.**

Fourjuu hours later, I lay awake in bed, counting the minutes as they passed like centuries on my clock. The oppressive silence of the house weighed upon me as I waited for sleep to find me. Mom's car had driven in the driveway about a hour ago, but instead of going to greet her, I pretended to be asleep.

Exhausted as I was after all that had happened, I was afraid to sleep. It didn't help that my mind was in a whirl, mulling over the letter and wondering the same questions over and over again. No answers revealed themselves to me no matter how much I thought about my father, Marcus Winters, or the apparently lost artifact that had been sent to the mystifying Peter Quinn.

And even if I did manage to put it out of my mind, there was the inevitable dream, that would keep me tossing and turning for the rest of the night.

Frustrated, I threw my blankets off, and swung myself out of bed. If wasn't going to sleep I may as well do something useful with myself. I headed over to my desk, and powered on my computer. The light came on, partially illuminating my room, and sending shadows stretching across the floor.

I was a firm believer in the Internet. If God didn't have answers, then the Internet would. I opened the google search engine and typed in, 'Marcus Winters, Egypt.' Options in bold blue listed themselves before me on the computer screen. May as well start with the first. I clicked on it.

Marcus Winters, a modern historian, and author of the book, A Millennia of Secrets published in 2009, is perhaps most known for his adventurous nature, having lead some of the most successful excavations around the world, during the past two decades. However since his return from Egypt, he has been shrouded in questions.

On February of 2007, this remarkable man, announced an dig that would be taking place not far from the city of Cairo. What winters hoped to find was never revealed. Also, funding this project was Peter Quinn, a close friend of Marcus Winters. The dig officially began several months later. Near the end of 2007, nothing had been found, despite extensive digging. Funding for the project was running out.

The excavation experienced several problems, from the beginning. Several diggers were killed under mysterious circumstances, along with some tragic accidents. Peter Quinn flew out to the site on December 28th. He had only been there a day when he went missing. Later his body was found in the dessert, dehydrated and a snake bite was found on his ankle.

It was not long after the loss of his, friend, that Winters discontinued the project, announcing that it was a failure. Soon after, anyone who had anything to do with Winters project disappeared, or was found dead in time. What the public is asking is, "Is Marcus Winters the reason for the deaths, or will he be the next victim?

More can be found on Marcus Winters if you click the link below.

The article had brought forth the answer, or at least part of it, about who Marcus Winters was. It was true, my father had left on the 28th of December. He said it was important to him to witness the end of the project since he had funded it. He left, and the next time I saw him, was at the open casket ceremony, where he face had been cold, and devoid of any emotion I was used to seeing etched upon his face.

I printed the article out, and then turned back to the computer screen. Next I googled '_Epagomenal.' _As it turned out, the five days of epagomenal were the the last five days of the Egyptian year, in which supposedly the gods were born.

I don't know how long I sat there at the computer, doing my research, which turned out to futile and hopeless. Eventually however, I must have fallen asleep.

_I was no longer in my room, in front of my computer. Instead I found myself in a place that I had never physically been, I even doubted it existed in the physical world. The shadows whirled around me, whispering their secrets to each other, so silently that even if I could understand the dark language in which they spoke, I wouldn't have been able to hear them. There was the ever increasingly familiar aura of menace, and anger, that made me shiver._

_How much I wished I could leave. But in the dream world, you waited until it let you leave, and not a moment sooner._

_Suddenly the temperature in the dream world dropped. A layer of the mist and darkness parted, and out stepped my father. He looked exactly the way I remembered him walking out the door, on the last day I had ever seen him. Dark, shaggy hair flopped into his face. The glasses he wore were slightly lop-sided due the fact that his ears were not aligned. He wore light beige pants, with a white t shirt, highlighting his muscular frame. He looked like a buff nerd. _

_The only thing off was the look in his blue eyes. Rather then filled with the laugher I remembered, they were filled with panic._

_Then he spoke. This time it was different. This time I understood._

_"Melanie, there's not much time. Soon I will have to go again, so I want you to listen very carefully."_

_I was in shock. It was as if two languages were overlapping, and some how, I was translating what he said._

_"Part of the curse of being trapped in this realm is forgetting. You forget so much, and after a time all that's left is anger. That's what has happened to the spirits around us. This is why I can no longer remember everything, and you must find your own answers." My father glanced around, fear etched on every pore on his face._

_What was my father talking about? I tried to speak, but I made no noise, no matter how hard I tried._

_"There was a book. It's hidden in plain sight. It seemed so important at the time, something about a great secret, a great power." My father scrunched his forehead. Then he mumbled, "A sacrifice. There are items marked with the eye, I cannot remember what they are, but they are the pieces to the secret." _

_Eye? Was that possibly the eye that had been mentioned Marcus Winters letter? I tried to ask, but once again I found I could make no noise. _

_The shadows began to swallow my father. "My time is up. Melanie, in my office, take my deck." For the first time he made eye contact with me. He smiled. "I'm sorry I've brought you into this, but be brave. There is more to you than you think there is." _

_This black mist closed over my father, just as it had moments ago, when he'd first arrived. Soon as he disappeared, my voice returned. "Wait! What do you mean? Dad!" _

_The shadows laughed. I began to run, searching for him. Where had he gone? I ran and called for my father for what seemed like centuries, and minutes at the same time. Finally I stopped. Even in my own dream, I was exhausted. Slowly I sank to the dark ground. I closed my eyes. "Please let the dream end now." I begged. Again the shadow laughter taunted me. _

_"It's not a dream." It whispered in my ears. "It's real." _

_Then there was nothing. Just a comfortable nothing._

I awoke with a jerk. The early rays of sunlight streamed through my window, onto my face, blinding me. My back ached from where I had been slumped over my desk for so long. I groaned, and got up. It was still early morning, and I had a while before I had to be at school. Thank any god or gods that existed for that.

I thought of my dream. It had been so real, and so very confusing and mysterious. I mulled over everything that had been said. Perhaps the book my father had mentioned was the item Marcus Winters had sent to him

What was I thinking? I had been dreaming, so everything that had been said, was really just an excuse to answer some of the questions I had, that had come forth from that stupid letter. There was no items, no secret, no arcane book. And all the coincidence was simply because my mind was dwelling on what had occurred in real life.

So why was I still trying to convince myself of all this.

I sighed, and decided to go have breakfast, and try to put this mess of cryptic hints out of my mind. I opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. I could hear mom moving around in her room, probably getting ready for work.

I stumbled my way down the steps. When I got to the bottom, I heard One Ton meow. He stalked towards me, on the way, rubbed himself against a door. The door led to my Dads office. I had not been in there since Dad had died. I knew mom kept it cleaned, but left it the way it was, as a memoir for him. '_Melanie, in my office, take my deck." _Dads words echoed through my mind.

Before I could convince myself that it was stupid idea, and I was probably trying to make myself feel like Dad had left something for me, I went over to the door.

I knew the door was locked. There was code panel, hidden in the door behind a panel, that looked part of the door. I flipped it open, and typed in the password, which had not changed. It was 'boogers.'

Dad had always said, it was harder for an intruder to guess a password picked at random, and when he had set the code, boogers had been the first thing to come to him.

I heard the door unlock. I opened the door. The smell of the wooden desk, and shelves permeated the air, and the room looked as if nothing had been disturbed since the day dad had left for Egypt. Books were neatly lined up on shelves, and a collection of objects that dad had collected from around the world, that sat, or hung were placed carefully throughout the office.

I remembered how much Dad had loved Duel Monsters. Like most everyone, he carried around a deck whenever he went. His had been sent back to us, along with the message of his death. I shook my head. Those memories were a bad place to wander into.

Even though I had not been in the office, for so long, I still knew where to look for my Dads deck. At the back of the office, another shelf stood. A set of horse head bookends, held up a row of books, and at the end, a plain wooden box sat. This was were Dad had left his deck, when he wasn't using it. Mom had put it back, when we realized he would never use it again.

Slowly, I reached up and took it off the shelf. a lose book fell of the shelf. Without think i put it back on the shelf, but no before I saw the title. _A Millennia of Secrets. _I ignored it, and placed it on Dads desk. I stood back and considered the box.

I'd been only ten when Dad had died. He'd been teaching me duel monsters himself at the time. I was no child protégée, but I mastered some basic strategies. I had enjoyed playing duel monsters with dad, when he was gone, it jut wasn't the same, so I gave it up. In that box, were the cards I had practiced on, and grew up with. It was then that I realized, I had never truly gotten over Da's death, but had simply blocked him from memory.

I sighed. It was time to put that aside now, and trust myself. The simple action of opening a box, did not feel meaningful, but somehow, I knew it was.

And there they were. My fathers cards, sitting there as if they had been waiting for me.

Then, "Mel! Hurry up, it's time to get ready for school!"

Quickly, I put the lid back on the box, and took it with me. I closed Dads office door, and went to go take a shower.

I ran down the stairs, nearly falling. I was going to be late. I taken too long in the shower. I loved showers, it was an excellent place to think, calm down, relax. So now I was late. I hurried into the kitchen, where mom was wrapping up a breakfast burrito.

"Here," she said. "Eat this on the way. I'd drive you to school, but I have to go to work."

"Thanks." I chugged the juice, that she had pored for me, and grabbed the breakfast burrito. "Bye, mom."

She smiled at me. "Have a nice day. Now get your butt in gear, or you'll be late again."

"I'm going, I'm going." I swung my bag my back and took off. "Curse my stupid addiction to showers." I muttered as I jogged down the road.

I jogged for a few minutes, while eating the burrito at the same time. All at once, I rounded a corner, a slammed into someone, and knocked us both to the ground. I scrambled to get up, and apologize.

When I did, I realized who I had run into. Yugi Moto picked himself up from the concrete looking slightly scuffed up.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you." I was blushing furiously. All I could think was, '_Great way to start the day Mel. Be late for school, and practically flatten a classmate. What else can you do to make a fool of yourself?'_

Yugi smiled and laughed. He scratched the back of his neck as he said, "It's all right, I should have looking where I was going too."

I bit my lip. What else should I say? I appreciated that he was trying to lighted the situation by taking some of the blame. Why did I have to be so awkward? "I really am sorry." I said again. Of all the words to say, I had to pick the same words to say over again.

"Really, it's okay. Hey are you headed to school?" He asked politely.

"Umm, yeah." Lame, lame, lame, lame. He must be thinking how boring I was, and was only being polite.

"Let's go together then. I was leaving for it to."

Leaving? But we were downtown, in front of a game shop. "You live here?" I asked. I was feeling nervous. I wasn't used to being with people. What if I made a fool of my self?

Yugi nodded. "Yeah, me and Grandpa. Grandpa owns the shop downstairs."

"Oh," He lived in a game shop? Cool.

We began to walk to school in silence. I wanted to say something, but the longer the silence got, the more awkward it felt. I touched my pocket, where I had stuffed my father's duel monsters deck, before I left. It gave me confidence. A small portion anyway.

I looked over at Yugi. That was when I noticed it. Around a string on his neck, there was a gold shaped pyramid.

"Nice pyramid." I said. I winced. God, that sounded lame.

"It's a puzzle actually. It took eight years to put it together." He held it up for me to see.

I could see the separate pieces, put together carefully. Eight years? Yugi sure had patience. Then I noticed an eye crafted upon the centre piece. It was similar to the eye of Horus, but different at the same time. I remembered the letter that had been sent to my father. '_An eye had been marked upon it, and no one seems able to identify it.'...'There were several seven slots, as you predicted.'_

Then in the dream my father had said, 'T_here were several items, I can not remember what they were.' _

"It's a millennium item." I said without thinking.

"It's a millennium item." The girl, Mel said.

How could she know that? The Pharaoh stirred in my mind. I met him in my mind.

"She knows my puzzle is a millennium item." I said.

"Yes." Said Yami. "I wonder how she knows?" His face darkened. I knew how furiously he wished he had his memory.

"Maybe she has one?" I asked.

"Perhaps, Yugi. We will have to wait and see."

**And I think I'll leave off there for now. R&R if you please. Hopefully the next chapter we'll see more of the gang. **

**Have fun doing whatever it is you do today, and remember tacos are better then pizza.**


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